


Four Times Olenna Tyrell Went on Dates That Didn't Go Anywhere, and One Date That Did

by orphan_account



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Dates, F/F, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-30
Updated: 2015-11-30
Packaged: 2018-05-04 06:07:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,590
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5323394
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Olenna Tyrell, despite her advanced years, likes to date.  She doesn't sleep around a lot, but she likes to go out and have a good time,  and enjoy the company of whatever men or women who strike her fancy.  Here are four dates that didn't go anywhere, and one that did.</p><p>Part of the "Autumn Blooms" AU.  :)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Four Times Olenna Tyrell Went on Dates That Didn't Go Anywhere, and One Date That Did

**Author's Note:**

  * For [thebraveandthebroiled](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thebraveandthebroiled/gifts).



Olenna looked at the long, rectangular box with the subtle copper-colored sheen and the bow around it.  Twenty-five year old scotch.  Not bad.

“Did you consult my granddaughter on this?”

“Course not, love.  I just wouldn’t dare to try and bring flowers to the Queen of Thorns on account of my not being bloody stupid.”  

Olenna’s face broke into an approving smile.  She liked this Greyjoy girl.  Too young to be anything serious of course, but then again, Olenna had no particular use for anything serious at this stage of her life anyhow.  

“Hope you like tapas,” Asha said, gallantly taking Olenna’s hand and helping her down the steps.  “Oberyn’s holding us a table at Boca Bistro.”

Olenna gave an approving little grunt.  “That’ll do nicely.”

The evening was warm and mild breezes whispered across the back of Olenna’s neck.  Asha Greyjoy had a pleasant enough face, but more to the point, she had a taste for good weed, a sharp wit, a delightful South London accent, and a rather muscular classic Mustang with a convertible top.

Asha opened the door and helped her into the car.  She watched her circle round the front of the vehicle, appreciating the macho swagger of her walk in those leather britches of hers.  When Asha slid into the driver’s seat, Olenna placed a hand on her knee and looked significantly at her.  “Now, be a dear, and do something for me?”

“Fetch you the moon?”  Asha suggested with a wink.

Olenna patted her thigh.  “Yes, actually.  How did you know?”

Asha stepped out of the car, and after a few moments of fiddling about, hauled the top of the car back and collapsed it so that they could take in the full view of the purpling sky with the pale moon creeping up over the low-slung rooftops of town.  “Told you, love, I’m bloody sharp.”    
  
  


***

  
  


“I really do think you need to sell me the back forty acres of the farm,” Tywin insisted with a cool little quirk of his lips.  Olenna supposed that passed for a smile where Tywin was concerned.

Olenna gave a haughty little cluck.  “Really, Tywin.  What on earth could you possibly want with it?”

Tywin waved imperiously at a passing waiter, who knew well enough to know that Mr. Lannister and his dining partner needed some more of the focaccia.  This was the ritziest place to be found in Westeros and its surrounding environs, and they knew Tywin and his preferences extremely well.

“What on earth do  you want it for, is the question?”  Tywin parried.  “I know you’re not growing anything on it and haven’t for years.”

Olenna smirked at him.  “But we might.”

“You know, I know what your granddaughter grows in those greenhouses.”

Olenna feigned innocence.  “Of course, Tywin, she grows African violets, Chinese Hibiscus, lilies…”  As if everyone in town didn’t know about Margaery’s top shelf marijuana plants.  Olenna had taught the girl everything there was to know about growing them, after all.

Tywin Lannister’s eyes narrowed.  He knew when he was being played with, and frankly, Olenna wasn’t even trying very hard.  

The waiters arrived with their dinner at this moment.  Tywin had, as a gentleman of their generation would, ordered for Olenna, knowing the best of what was to be had there.  Two dishes were set down before them, deep plates displaying steaming shanks of osso buco with sundried tomato polenta to soak up the savory sauce.  Paired with the generous flow of Luce Toscana, a blend of Sangiovese and Merlot that was subtle, complex and obscenely expensive, one could hardly have dreamt up a better meal.

“You know,” she said, after a heavenly bite of veal, followed by a long sip of wine, “if you wanted to invite me out to dinner, you could have just asked me.”  She fixed him with a long, unbreaking stare.  

Tywin continued to peer at her through his narrowed eyes.  Slowly, a smile crept onto his face.  An actual smile.  It seemed tentative, as though it were a little scared of the ice cracking under it’s shaky steps.  

“More wine, Olenna?”

 

  
***

  
  


“Boy, what in hell are you doing with your britches?”

Bronn stood for a moment in his boxers, looking bewildered, then gave a slow smile.  “I was just getting comfortable.  You don’t mind, do you?”  He shuffled one of his feet, and his giant belt buckle banged against the floor.

Olenna snorted.  She had to give him points for having balls the size of cantaloupes to try such a gambit, but she still sat giving him a sharp eye, looking skeptically at his jeans, which were bunched down around his ankles.  Her eyes moved back up to the boxers.  Time was, she might have found the bulge hiding behind them promising, but these days it just sounded like too much work.

The Tyrells were famed for being a bit libertine, and Olenna had a reputation that preceded her.  That reputation, however, was a good twenty-five years out of date, at this point.  “Just because a girl likes to go on a lot of dates, doesn’t mean she’s going to be dropping her delicates at the first sign of a gentle breeze, junior.”

Bronn frowned, giving a hurt look that was likely exaggerated by a factor of ten or so, and then grinned again.  “How about a hurricane, then?”

“The only hurricane I’m interested in is the one you’re going to mix me with those two shades of rum you’ve got sitting on top of that liquor cabinet.”

Bronn nodded.  “Yes, ma’am.”   He started to shuffle over to the liquor cabinet.

“And pull your damn pants up.”

  
  


*****

  
  


The firing range was a little unorthodox for a first date, but the evening was warm and ripe, and the mood about the place was jovial as the crack of rifles and pistols filled the air and some good, solid country-rock drifted out of the office up front.  Olenna gripped the long rifle and felt its warm length in her hands.  It had been a good while since she’d shot off a gun, but it wasn’t unpleasant.  And she found Maege Mormont’s gratuitous touching as she helped her take aim to be equally... not unpleasant.

“Now take a moment to get your sights, just use the scope right here…”  Maege was saying to her.

“I remember how to use a rifle, you know,” Olenna scolded.

“Oh yeah?  And how’s your eyesight?”  Maege ribbed her.

“I could see you popped a button on that blouse from the  minute you picked me up.  I spotted it from the car.”

Maege glanced down in surprise.  She had no missing buttons.  Olenna was just fucking with her.  She chuckled.  “You had me going, girl.  I was about to holler at you but good for letting me stroll around all evening with a popped button.”

Olenna smirked.  “If you had done, I wouldn’t have told you.”

Maege snorted and elbowed her in the ribs.  “Come on, now, girl.  Let’s see if you’re as sharp with that gun as you are with mouth of yours.”

Olenna sniffed.  “You don’t know the half of how sharp I am with my mouth, Maege Mormont.”

Maege blushed a little, stood aside, popped the earplugs on her, and let Olenna take a few shots at the target.  Unsurprisingly, they were all dead dead on.

  
  


****

  
  


This time was different.  This time, he had asked.  And it had not taken much convincing.

This time, he squired her about town in his softly purring Mercedes with the moonroof open, took the long route to the restaurant that went past the lake that sat still, reflecting the moon and stars, in its shallow gully.  This time, Tywin played some classical music on the stereo and didn’t talk business.  Or, in fact, talk at all.   Olenna had never been overfond of Haydn, but this wasn’t so bad, whatever it was.

He’d shown up with a bouquet.  It was charmingly old school of him, but she sat mulling it over as they drove.  She was the first to speak after a long quiet stretch in which he’d only occasionally glanced over, looking unusually pleased with himself.  

“You didn’t let my granddaughter choose those flowers, did you.”

“No, Olenna, I did not.”

“I know you didn’t.  Want to know how I know?”

“Yes, very much.”

Olenna smiled and patted his hand.  “Calla, Jasmine, and Lavender.  Margaery would never have put that combination together.”

Tywin chuckled silently.  “Of course not.  She wouldn’t have used the lavender.”

Olenna’s eyebrow lifted.  “How’d you know that?”

“Because.”  He steered the car easily along the winding road beside the lake.  “Calla is regal, jasmine is grace and elegance, but lavender is distrust and she wouldn’t have put that in a bouquet.”

“But  you would.”

He smiled.

“In fact, I had to fight her to put it in.”

Olenna nodded thoughtfully, a slow smile spreading over her face as she did so.  “You don’t say.”

“I do.”

“You don’t trust me?”

“Not in the least,”  Tywin said in an easy tone that came as close to cheerful as she’d ever heard him.  “But I don’t trust anyone, as you may have guessed.  And I’m choosing to spend this evening with you nevertheless, Olenna, because I rather enjoy your company.”  He paused, letting the symphony fill in the gap in their conversation, and then glanced over at her, then back at the road.  “But you knew that.”

“And  I rather enjoy a challenge.”  She smiled steadily at him.  “But  you knew  that .”


End file.
